


Getaway

by Storyshark2005



Series: (No) Mercy for the Midlife Crisis Universe [4]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyshark2005/pseuds/Storyshark2005
Summary: Because when I asked them, lostmagician and cutesynamehere independently gave me the same prompt– “Johnny tries to take Daniel on a weekend getaway. Emphasis on /tries/.”—-Expanded Chapter 1!It's seven thousand words and they haven't even left LA yet and Daniel STILL doesn't know about the trip plans (well ok really Johnny doesn't either) but anyway here is an overly long setup but worry not next chapter they will be in Tijuana salsa dancing with ex-narcos.(Daniel doesn't know about that, /shhhhhh!!!/ )
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Series: (No) Mercy for the Midlife Crisis Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609726
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118





	Getaway

> Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.
> 
> ― John Steinbeck, _Travels with Charley: In Search of America_
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##  **March 2019**

  
  


***

It was another ‘Friday Family Dinner’, the first after two months of skipped get-togethers. Amanda had finally called, saying Anthony was stumbling around the house pretending to be blind, complaining he’d ‘forgotten his father’s face.’

Anthony saw his dad twice a week. He was full of shit.

Apparently Anoush could cook too-- _Yakitori_ was on the menu and Johnny had nearly groaned out loud before Daniel reassured him that it _‘wasn’t sushi’_ but _‘chicken on a stick, you’ll love it.’_ Thank god. Daniel was a hell of a cook, but no amount of zealous enthusiasm was going to convince Johnny that insanely priced _uncooked, slimy_ fish wrapped in _seaweed_ (A weed! From the sea! Still a weed!) was worth eating. Not even if you put the words _‘Famous’_ and _‘LaRusso’_ in front of it. 

Johnny left Daniel chatting with his ex in the kitchen, and followed Anoush outside to start the charcoal grill because there was only so much videogame playing with Anthony and Robby he could take. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, happy to find Anoush still jumping at the sound of his voice. “Big vacation, huh? Seems like you guys take a lot of those.”

Anoush finished dumping the bag of charcoal into the round black grill, and reached for the lighter fluid, still eyeing Johnny a little warily. Johnny sipped his beer. 

“Uh, well. You know how it is. Gotta keep things exciting.” 

Anoush and Amanda had spent Christmas in Hawaii, and over the past few months it seemed there was always a mid-week or weekend getaway, chaining their days off together (apparently they could do a lot of their job ‘remote’ these days-- sounded like an excuse to Johnny). And just a few minutes before, in the middle of the cavernous kitchen, they had announced an upcoming trip to France— ten whole days of wining and dining in Provence. 

LaRusso had dropped his mouth a little, eyes looking a few shades greener.

“You and Daniel should get out of town for a little bit, we’re not leaving for another month, we can take the kids on his days. He’s only part time at the dealership anyway, and it’s not like you have a—” 

Anoush stopped, cleared his throat, and absently cradled his ribcage with the hand not holding the lighter.

“I-I mean. You have like...flexible hours and stuff. You should take advantage. Go somewhere.” 

Johnny let the implied dig slide, glaring as he crushed his empty can and fished another from a nearby cooler as Anoush lit the grill.

It did sting a little, though. Johnny had a real job. But he was still teaching classes at Miyagi-do. Which, although the less-than-a-minute commute was nice, he was feeling antsy to find a new space— something simpler with good old vinyl mats and fluorescent lighting— and lose the incense and wind chimes. And the yard was really too small, especially for the growing youth class. Almost a dozen of the little midgets now, they could barely form orderly rows without some kids standing on rocks, or the middle of that stupid pond wheel thing. Miyagi-do was all about _circles—_ Johnny would rather keep his lines, thanks. 

“I mean, c’mon man.” Anoush shook his head, clicking his tongue wryly. “What else are you gonna do, watch Netflix every night?” 

They’d just finished Season Four of _The Wire_. Johnny might have cried during the finale. Just a little. LaRusso had run a hand down his back sympathetically, barely trying not to laugh at his pain. Dick.

“Yeah, man,” he says instead. “He tried to get me to watch that _Game of Thrones_ crap. Too many stupid names to remember. It’s not worth all the naked chicks.”

Anoush snorted, pulling out what he called a ‘cigarillo', but was really just a tiny cigar. Johnny always hated the smell, like the small white confines of Kreese’s office. Repressed tears and high expectations. 

They watched the smoke float and the flames burn down to the charcoal, turning the black bricks a chalky grey. 

“So,” Anoush held his baby cigar gingerly. “You and Daniel, you guys doing okay?” 

“Why.” 

“Just...asking. Amanda’s always worried about it.” 

“We’re fine.” Johnny waited. “Why’s she worried about it?”

“I dunno, just...they’re still friends. I think she’s worried if you guys ever...you know. If it didn’t work out. He’d like...spiral down into deep depression.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah. I know.” Anoush pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He’d be a _mess_.” 

These conversations never go quite right. 

Johnny shook his head. “She doesn’t have anything to worry about. LaRusso and me...we’re solid.” 

“Oh. Good.” Anoush nodded, and turned back to the grill.

Johnny drank more beer and Anoush smoked. Along with the glasses, he was wearing a sweater instead of his usual vest combo, and his hair was a little longer, a little fluffier than Johnny had seen last time. He supposes Amanda finds him cute. 

“So, the _European Vacation_. How’d you plan something like that.” 

“Oh, you know. Just search around, I researched some restaurants I thought she’d like. Then you just gotta book the hotels and train tickets. Get on a plane. It’s not hard.” 

“So you feel like you know her pretty well.”

Anoush frowned, blowing smoke across the patio. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean well enough to know what she’d like.” He shook his head. “Like LaRusso, he—” Johnny hesitated, realized Anoush was staring at him in a strange, curiously critical way. “He’s just picky is all,” he finished quickly. “I wouldn't know how to do something like that for him.” 

“Look, man. You love him, right?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny shrugged uncomfortably. Not because it wasn’t true. It was just odd, talking about it to Daniel’s ex-wife’s boyfriend. 

“Then you’re overthinking it. Some people are just hard to find gifts for, you know. And...maybe that’s just not your love language. Or his.” 

“My _what?”_

“Love language. You know, it’s like, how you express love to each other.” Anoush gestured grandly into the early evening air. “Like, do you say nice things, or _do_ nice things, or do you like buying presents. You guys should take one of those online quizzes--” 

“Yeah I’m not doing that.”

“Look it sounds stupid I know, but from what you’re saying I think it could really help you--” 

“Neither us of are into that chick stuff, man.” 

Anoush shook his head and shrugged, pulling the round black lid from the grill, leaning back from the heat and smoke to check the progression of the burning charcoal.

“Look. Just...google ‘ _couple...getaway weekend ideas los angeles’._ He’ll love anything you pick, ninety percent of it is just you bothering to put thought into it. You know? Like... it’s the thought that counts, all that.” He replaced the lid of the grill. “Eh, we’ll give it another ten minutes.”

Johnny sighed, leaning his hip against a bank of raised flower beds.

“So. Is this chicken-on-a-stick stuff any good?” 

“Dude,” Anoush laughed, leaning back with him, shoulders relaxing marginally. “The _best.”_

  
  
  


***

  
  


_QUESTION 8 OF 16_

To spontaneously show your love to your partner, you would usually:

  1. Compliment their style or behavior
  2. Take some time out to spend together
  3. Organise something to do as a couple that they would enjoy
  4. Cuddle and spoil them



Johnny squinted harder at the laptop screen, and tried to think. He and LaRusso weren’t really like that. They were cool. They were men. They didn’t need all this touchy-feely shit. 

He did, briefly, think of all the cooking Daniel did, with only the occasional bitch-fest when Johnny didn’t put the dishes in the dishwasher. Johnny had asked him once, why all this effort? Johnny couldn't put a meal together to save his life, but that didn’t mean LaRusso had to do all this work. _I’m an adult,_ Johnny had reasoned, _you don’t have to do all this. I can eat cereal in the morning_. LaRusso had snapped, cryptically, _I do it because I want to do it_ and left Johnny to package up the leftovers. 

LaRusso was good like that. Thoughtful. But it wasn’t like Johnny wasn’t trying. It was just different. Like they hadn’t done anything on Valentine’s Day, because it was a stupid holiday, and Johnny was glad that for once in his life, he was with somebody who agreed with him.

  
  


_QUESTION 9 OF 16_

_Your partner’s birthday is coming up soon. How are you preparing for it?_

  1. _You send them an erotic email or text_
  2. _You secretly organise a huge surprise party with all their friends_
  3. _When you’re out shopping, you make a note of all the things that they like_
  4. _You buy some essential oils, ready to offer them a surprise massage on the day_



Jesus. This was so stupid. Who would _do_ shit like this? _‘Send them an erotic email’_ \-- LaRusso would definitely kill him. 

_‘Organize a big party.’_

LaRusso had no friends, so that was out. 

_‘When you’re out shopping...’_

Men didn’t go shopping _._

The massage thing could work but no way was Johnny going shopping for essential oils (see above). 

Was that-- could you use...? Nah. Probably not.

Johnny was halfway through typing _lube for massage_ into a Google search when he hears LaRusso’s key in the lock and nearly has a heart attack slamming the computer shut. LaRusso came whistling through the door, throwing his man-purse bag on Johnny’s counter. Lately they’ve been back and forth between Johnny’s place and the dojo. Daniel kept trying to convince Johnny to drop the lease, save money on rent. Which would have been a great idea, and Johnny was over at Daniel’s 90% of the time as it was. 

But there was something Johnny still couldn’t let go of. This was _his_ space, with his things, the ugly yellow chair from the apartment in Palms with Bobby. His stupid bikini girls poster. His mother’s kitchen table, back when it was just the two of them in a shitty one-bedroom apartment, back before Sid. But these were just _things,_ and besides that he knows Daniel would make room for the table or any other sentimental thing Johnny wanted to hold onto. 

The truth is simple. The apartment is a safety net. In case things don’t work out. There was nothing threatening the relationship per say... the kids were all taking it well, Amanda and Anoush were slowly taking over the dealership, and Daniel was only holding onto his North Hollywood hours to keep money coming in.

So it's a luxury he can’t really afford. But he’s pretty sure Daniel has picked up on the fact that Johnny was still clinging onto the apartment like a security blanket. And he was letting Johnny get away with the excuses: the apartment had a bigger TV ; it was closer to the dealership, which was especially nice when Daniel worked up till rush hour traffic; and maybe it was something to hold onto until Robby needed a place of his own. 

Anyway. For now, Johnny had his security blanket, and Daniel was looking the other way. 

“Hey,” Daniel swooped in for his usual quick kiss (this was new to Johnny, he and Shannon had been... _complicated_...and none of his other relationships had lasted long enough to reach this kind of comfort level), and dropped down on the couch next to Johnny, nodding at the laptop. 

“What’cha doing?” 

“Ahhhh, just. Nothing, really.”

“Oh.” 

“I just got in...I drove around a little today. Looked for some spaces.” 

For the new dojo.

“Find anything?” 

“There was one up in North Hills that was kind of cool. Used to be a boxing gym.”

“Sounds cool.” Daniel threw an arm over the top of the couch, crooking his elbow to rest his head in one hand. 

“Yeah, but they wanted way too much. It’s like...twice what I was paying for Cobra Kai, even after your little rent hike stunt.” 

He rolled his eyes. He used to wince, but Johnny’s probably overplayed that card. “I said sorry,” he says, not sounding all that sorry, and leans in close with those big baby browns.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, LaRusso.” 

“What does?” 

“How about steak?” 

“How about chicken and broccolini?” Daniel pressed their lips briefly together, and vaulted youthfully up to the kitchen, which is when Johnny noticed the bag of groceries next to the man-purse. 

“What, no--” 

“You’re not twenty five anymore, you gotta take it easy on the red meat and hot dogs.” 

Johnny followed him over, sitting on one of a recently purchased set of bar stools. It had become sort of a routine, Johnny sitting there while Daniel cooked. 

“Breakfast of champions,” Johnny smirked, eyebrows quirking while LaRusso slotted a beer into a koozie and pushed it across the bar, and grabbed one for himself.

“Lips and assholes,” LaRusso snorted, and turned to throw a pan on the stove. “I miss my gas range so much. I hate these electric stoves.” 

“That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said.” Johnny grabbed for a nearby bag of tortilla chips, throwing the clothes-pin aside. 

“That’s funny ‘cause I was sorta thinking ‘let me blow you, baby’ was a little gayer.”

Johnny laughed out loud, and Daniel poured a jar of salsa (homemade because ‘store-bought has too much salt’) into a bowl and passed it over. 

“Thanks.” 

“I dunno how you can eat those things plain, your mouth gets too dry--” 

“I know how to make it ‘un-dry’--” 

“Oh, yeah?” Daniel looked back over his shoulder, smiling with the crinkles at his eyes and all. _And_ he was wearing an apron. 

_“Leth me bloth you babeh--”_ Johnny said through a mouthful of chips and (homemade) salsa, being careful not to laugh and inhale tortilla chips. 

He supposes, there were worse ways to go.

  
  


***

  
  


LaRusso has the world’s most annoying alarm clock on his phone. Of course he uses his phone and not a real alarm clock, because according to Daniel ‘nobody uses alarm clocks anymore.’ Johnny doesn’t understand that. Who would want some horrible, eardrum-shattering, pipsqueak-y phone blaring in your ear every morning, when you could wake up to _Frosty, Heidi and Frank on the Morning Show_ on 95.5 KLOS?! 

LaRusso. That’s who. 

_“LaRusso,”_ Johnny groans, turning away from the horrible ear-splitting sound, pulling a pillow over his head. “--the _fuck_ \--” 

Daniel silences the phone and turns onto his back, breathing deep and rubbing at his face. It’s Southern California and it’s summer, so the sun rises early, but Johnny will be damned if it’s seven o’clock yet. 

_“Mmmph.”_ LaRusso groans in sympathy, sitting up. “Gotta be at the dealership by 9.” 

_“It’s Sunday.”_ Johnny argues, still muffled under the pillow. It’s nice and dark there. 

“The BMW guys are coming today. We’re givin’ ‘em a tour and lunch. Tryin’ to make ‘em feel good about the transition.” 

Johnny turns fully on his stomach, still under the pillow. 

“How is that not your wife’s job?” 

_“Ex-wife,”_ Daniel mutters, and Johnny can feel him smiling into his neck, the shared body heat spreading warm over his back. Johnny breathes deep, enjoying the weight of him, feeling him rise up with the filling of his lungs. “We want to show a united front. Show them they’re not getting burned in the divorce.” Daniel pulls the pillow up, nuzzles his nose down into Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny breathes deeply, eyes still shut. “Want me to come? Show ‘em what you’re leavin’ ‘em for?” 

“MmmMm.” Daniel shakes his head, nose past Johnny’s ear, chin digging into his shoulder blade. “You’re too distracting.” 

He feels Daniel push himself up, his weight pressing down through his palms, down into Johnny’s back, eliciting a satisfying _pop!_ from his spine-- and the slow drag of his pelvis over Johnny’s ass. He was like a cat, sometimes. 

Though Johnny was pretty sure it was the “Cobra stretch” LaRusso was doing on top of him right now. 

_BEEEEEP BO-BO-BO-BO-BO-BO BEEEEEEP_

Daniel huffs, shifts his weight around to reach the phone and shut off the alarm. Johnny bucks his hips, trying half-heartedly to throw him off. 

“Get your fat ass off me or make it worth my time--” 

But LaRusso has already tumbled onto the floor, barely saved by the long skinny tangle of his legs. Johnny watches him with one eye open, walking to the bathroom in the half-light, dark messy hair, grumbling with his phone in hand. He never let that damn thing out of his sight. _Addicted._

Johnny listens to the sound of the shower for a few moments, audible through the open door, thinking he could get up and join in, make sure LaRusso had to skip breakfast and comb his hair hastily in place, maybe make it out the door with his tie knotted crooked, a few wrinkles left in his shirt. Leave a few new marks under his collar. _Mine,_ he thinks lazily. 

But. He’s a little too tired to bother, and so he takes a few minutes to sit up, skin hot and his limbs still numb and sluggish. He does sit-ups on the floor until Daniel comes back in with a towel around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders, heading to his the side of the closet where a few suits and collared shirts hung on straight and orderly on heavy wooden hangers, so different from Johnny’s crooked rows of flannel and cotton on flimsy metal triangles. 

Johnny finally feels fully awake after his own shower. The smells of toast and the cheery sounds of eggs in a pan motivates him to dress quickly, pulling on a pair of boxers and an old Cobra Kai t-shirt. Daniel had suggested he throw all that stuff away, but there were good memories there too, right next to the bad. Plus, if felt kind of like a private _fuck you_ to Kreese. 

The boxers felt a little tight, and Johnny feels momentarily panicky, like _oh God it’s like the early 2000s again_ and curses LaRusso for always making him bacon when he asked for it. He resolves to weigh himself later, maybe dress in sweats and go for a late-afternoon jog.

He walks out into the kitchen, and LaRusso nearly spits his coffee out. 

“What?” 

“Turn around.” Daniel manages to swallow his coffee, and makes a twirling motion with his finger. 

“What is this, Fox News?” Johnny complains. Daniel just grins at him, doing the twirly finger thing again. 

“This is bullshit,” Johnny comments. But. Just like a reluctant Megyn Kelly, he does the twirl. 

“You realize you’re wearing my underwear.” 

Johnny looks down. LaRusso looked _delighted._

“Aw, man-- keep your panties in _your drawer_ , LaRusso.” 

“Your ass looks...” he nods approvingly over his coffee cup. 

Johnny feels a little glow of satisfaction at the compliment, and instead of changing, sits down to his eggs at the small kitchen table. 

It _was_ kinda hot.

Daniel sets a mug of coffee in front of him, looking at his watch. 

“Shit, I gotta go,” he says, walking over to the front door, peering through the peephole. 

Johnny shakes his head, chewing his eggs. They even had the homemade salsa on them. “Dude. You gotta get over this.” 

Daniel sighs, still looking, squinting through the little fisheye. “It’s just so awkward running into her. I can barely look her in the eye.” 

“Carmen’s awesome.” 

“Yeah. She’s gorgeous, and smart, and incredibly sweet, and you used to date her.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “One date.” 

Daniel, turns back, voice serious. “She still likes you. I can tell.” 

Johnny suppresses a snort. “Can you blame her?” 

Daniel rolls his eyes, grabs his bag, and leans in for a kiss. “I’m out after lunch, I’ll see you after?”

“Yeah,” then Johnny remembers. “I’ve got class at three. But I’m getting a beer with Jimmy and Bobby tonight, might not see you till late.” 

“Uh, yeah, okay.” 

“That cool?” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Daniel nods. 

Johnny squints a little harder, trying to suss out any hidden meanings or double-speak. Shannon had never really meant the things she said. ‘ _It’s fine’_ was more often a blaring red flag that nothing was in fact, _fine._

But LaRusso was no Shannon, and Johnny’d gotten the green light he was looking for. 

“Your place tonight?” Johnny asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Say hi to Carmen for me.” 

Daniel opens the door, then looks back. “You’re a dick.” 

Johnny looks up, not bothering to suppress a grin. “Nerd.” 

The door closes on LaRusso’s affectionate huff. 

  
  


***

  
  


Bobby lives a couple hours north in Bakersfield, but agrees to make the drive down to meet at an old haunt in Culver City, not too far from Jimmy’s office. The beer was cold and cheap, and there were a couple of pool tables and dart boards if they felt so inclined. 

“Where’s Daniel?” Jimmy sits, arranging his jacket on the back of his chair at the high-top. 

Johnny frowns. “Why?” 

Bobby slips his phone into his pocket, and starts distributing a pitcher of beer so lightly colored, it almost looked like club soda. “Daniel’s a guy, he can come.”

Johnny pulled his glass across the table, tipping the cold, mildly-skunky-but-mostly-tasteless beer down his throat. They had started this tradition of ordering Budweiser, which had been Tommy’s brew of choice. It was definitely terrible, but. It was sort of nice, feeling like Tommy was somewhere just out of sight, plugging quarters into the jukebox maybe, or at bar taking way too much time with the order because he was harassing some pretty girl-- almost always out of his league. But. That was Tommy. _Charm will get you everywhere_ , he would say, and always with that matching hundred megawatt smile. 

“Yeah. He’s working, probably.” Johnny knew guiltily, that Daniel wasn’t. But it was one of those things. Jimmy and Bobby never brought their wives. It changed the dynamic, pushed what was old and easy just off of equilibrium. 

They drink half the pitcher, giving Bobby shit for selling his motorcycle at his wife’s tired behests. Jimmy was same old, same old. His kids were looking at colleges, so Jimmy was looking at re-financing his house. Dutch gets mentioned because Jimmy went and saw him at Lompoc just last month. 

“If all goes well, it’ll be next year.”

“That soon?” Johnny’s eyebrows notch up a tick. He tries to imagine Dutch sober, with a job, trying to reenter society as a reformed citizen. Walking around parking lots without a slimjim and a screwdriver shoved down the leg of his jeans. It was tough to picture.

Jimmy nods. “Yeah. I need to look into gettin’ him into a halfway house or something.” 

Bobby rubs his hands over his head, taking the world on his shoulders, of course. “We need to figure something else out, get him away from other convicts.” 

They all nod, and settle into a comfortable silence, drinking and listening to the click and rumble of the pool tables, the slap and ring of the pinball machines in one corner. Ozzy Osborne on the jukebox. Johnny rubs at the condensation on his glass, staring through the pale gold liquid. 

“Hey. You guys ever do like...weekend trips?” 

Jimmy frowns. “You mean like a family vacation?” 

“Nah, I mean just you and Jenny. Leave the kids at home.” 

Bobby does that thing, smiling with just his eyes, which are sparkling faintly in the red and blue-cast light. “You guys trying to get out of town?” 

“Thinkin’ about it.”

“What have you guys talked about?” 

“Nothing really. I’m kind of...I haven’t asked him.” 

Bobby and Jimmy exchange a look, Jimmy’s smile wide. 

“Oooh,” Jimmy says. “A surprise trip, huh?”

 _OOOoooOHHHhhh,_ Johnny mocks in his head. Ugh. He can’t get anything past these guys. 

“Yeah. Got any bright ideas?” Johnny leans back, crossing his arms, trying to look annoyed. 

  
  


***

  
  


Johnny pulls into the driveway just after ten. He walks back to the high wood fence, shutting the latch with a quiet click, and spends a minute feeling the cool night breeze on his face, listening to the rustle of the trees. His eyes rove over the yellow glowing windows of the little blue house. This feels like home now, in a way few places ever have. 

The TV is on in the main room, the one just off the kitchen. Johnny toes his shoes at the door, deposits his keys and wallet on the counter, and pads over. Daniel’s asleep, drooling onto the arm of the couch while Anthony Bourdain’s _Parts Unknown_ plays on half-mute in the background. His hair is damp, he’s wearing boxers and an old Islanders t-shirt and he smells really good. Johnny kneels down, threading his fingers through the dark strands. He brushes a finger across the dark fan of eyelashes.

The smooth plane of Daniel’s forehead wrinkles in, he breathes inward, long and deep, and opens his eyes. 

“Oh, _hey_ ,” he yawns. “What timeisit?” 

Johnny sits down, Daniel pulling his legs out of the way as he pushes himself up.

“Four a.m. We went to the strip club. Jimmy’s leaving his wife, but you’ll like her. Her name is Candy.” 

Daniel grabs his phone and seeing the real time, rolls his eyes. 

“You’re funny.” 

Johnny leans over, pushing close so he can smell Daniel’s shampoo, sandalwood and tea tree oil, the overpriced stuff he got from a salon, because he went to a _salon_ and not a barber like everybody else. Johnny had tried it a couple of times. It made his scalp tingle.

“How are the guys?” Daniel asks, opening his knees, and Johnny rests his head down on Daniel’s chest and feels suddenly tired.

“They’re good,” he murmurs against the blue cotton shirt, staring at the TV. “Bobby had a close call on the bike. He’s selling it.” 

Daniel wraps his arms around Johnny’s shoulders. “Mm. Probably a good idea.” 

“Yeah.” 

They lay like that awhile, shifting around a bit until Johnny’s arm is under and around Daniel’s ribcage and Daniel’s fingers are in Johnny’s hair. 

“Where’s he at this time?” Johnny nods at the screen.

“Uhm. I’m not sure. Singapore, if it’s the same episode I started. Might be something else now.” 

“You ever been?” Daniel and Amanda had been to a lot of places. Picture frames full of them, hanging up on the walls of the house in Encino.

“No,” Daniel breathes softly, still combing Johnny's hair back hypnotically. “Nowhere that out of the way. Except Okinawa.” 

Johnny hums, thinking of his own childhood vacations. Or lack thereof. “Sid took us to the Catskills one summer. Fuckin’ weird. Just a bunch of old jewish people playing racquetball. I think me and mom were the only ones there under sixty.” 

“Oh, God,” Daniel groans in sympathy. 

“It was stupid. It was like that movie. About the dancing.”

“What movie?”

“Swayze and the hot girl with the nose.” 

Daniel laughs. “Sam loves that one, _Dirty Dancing.”_

“Yeah. There were no hot chicks that summer.”

“What a shame,” Daniel grins. 

“Ali kinda looked like that girl. Maybe it was just the hair.” 

“Is that why you dated her?”

“Something like that.” They don’t really do this. Talk about Ali. Johnny can’t figure out if it’s because it’s still a sore subject, or if it’s just so far back in the mirror at this point. That year was just so much pain, LaRusso stumbling backwards in the moonlight with his shirt in one hand. Ali kneeling in the sand over the broken pieces of her radio.

He doesn’t really like thinking about it. 

“Hm,” Daniel’s fingers slow, not quite still. 

Johnny tilts his head, not-so-subtly encouraging Daniel’s fingers back into motion. “You probably went to boy scout camp or something nerdy.”

“Summer camp. One year. I didn’t want to go. Made a couple friends, though. So that made up for the poison ivy.” 

“You keep in touch with them?” 

“Nah. Haven’t seen those guys since I left Jersey.” 

“Hm.” 

Daniel tips his head down. “You never went anywhere with your mom?” 

“Sid didn’t like traveling. Mom didn’t go anywhere without him.” 

“Oh,” Daniel frowns. “I guess I figured you went skiing every winter break or something. Or whatever rich kids do.” 

“Why don’t you ask your daughter?” Johnny teases. “She’s the one running up your credit card.” 

“Watch it, rich boy.” 

“Not anymore,” Johnny grimaces. “Speaking of credit cards.” 

“Your enrollment is looking good,” Daniel murmurs, fingers fall to Johnny’s shoulders, thumbs pushing into the pressure points at the juncture of his neck. Johnny’s eyes fall shut. Another perk...Daniel knew shih tzu. Er. _Shiatsu_. The massage thing. “I was thinking...about this whole new dojo thing. I still think this place works fine, you know, you just need smaller classes throughout the day.” 

Daniel’s magic fingers ease tension away. 

Johnny groans, “ _Mmph_. I know what you’re doing.” 

“No you don’t. Take off your shirt.” 

Johnny frowns, pushing up, and pulls his shirt off. 

“You’re not gonna talk me into it. I need a place where nobody can fall and drown in a pond.” 

“Uh huh. Turn around, lay down.” 

Johnny grabs a pillow, huffing. “I’m not teaching Miyagi-do.” 

“I know,” LaRusso sighs, climbing back onto the couch, knees on either side of Johnny’s thighs. “But you’d be saving money here, especially if you’re keeping the apartment. And you’re already--” He presses down, fingers digging down to the left and right side of Johnny’s spine. 

“ --incorporating some _kata_. You’re halfway there already.” 

Johnny’s eyes close again, feeling the muscles of his back unclench, the slow heady trickle of endorphins. “I don’t need a pond for that. Or tiny trees.”

“Right, but--” he grips Johnny’s hips, pressing his thumbs down into the dimples of his lower back. Johnny feels something is his jaw unhook. “You know Miguel was really liking the Wheel technique.” 

“He’s just trying to bang your daughter-- _ow!”_

“Ooh, sorry, elbow slipped a little--” 

Johnny turns over, a spot on his back still smarting. LaRusso is staring down at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m not teaching Miyagi-do.” Johnny tilts his head seriously. 

Daniel’s amusement fades a little, biting the inside of his cheek. “And I’m not teaching Cobra Kai.” 

“Did I say that?” Johnny looks up, shaking his head minutely.

“I want to teach with you. I just...I need--” he struggles, Johnny knows why. He’s always worried about what his dead teacher would think. Johnny’s said as much, several times, with less-than-ideal results.

“Your,” Johnny sighs. “You realize, that way back, the Miyagi teachers didn’t always have cars to wax, right? There’s more than one way to do it. I’m sure the way your teacher taught you had to be a little different than he learned it, right?” 

“I think it was pretty much the same.” Daniel frowns, not very mollified. 

“I’m just saying, like that day you came in and helped the kids with their punches. You didn’t need a pond or a floor to sand. And you can do your kata stuff anywhere. And the wheel thing... I mean. We could always come out here for that.”

“Like a field trip?”

“Yeah. But I need space for a dozen kids to spar, and they can’t do it here without knocking over one of your bananza trees.” 

_“Bon--sai.”_ Daniel leans in, correcting, enunciating slow. 

“Whatever. I’ll teach your stupid kata but we need the new space.” 

Daniel’s jaw still looks tight, his eyes are unfocused, far away. 

“You’re not disappointing anybody by changing venues.” 

Daniel’s eyes re-sharpen. “And you can’t afford to keep your apartment and lease a new space, not unless you triple your class sizes.”

Johnny sits up slowly, pushing Daniel back to the corner of the couch, and gently grips his left calf, easing the leg straight. He concentrates, pressing gently at the ligaments and muscle around the outside of the kneecap. 

Daniel winces, but nods at him to keep going. It just gets tight sometimes, especially after he’s been sitting awhile. 

“How are we gonna do this, Johnny?” Daniel’s voice is tired, a little thin, as he rests his head against the side of the couch. 

“We’ll figure it out.” He stops with the pressure, just rubbing gently over the skin now.

“I know. I’m just tired, I guess.” 

“Would you go somewhere with me?” Johnny murmurs into Daniel’s knee, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to bring it up.

“Where?” Daniel asks, curiously. 

Johnny shakes his head, looking back over at the TV. Anthony Bourdain was sitting on a beach. It seemed as good a place as any. 

“Does it matter?” 

Daniel’s eyes soften. He shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. “Not really.”

***

  
  


Johnny could normally count eleven heads in his youth class, but today he was missing one. Daniel had taken Anthony for some kind of physical, he was all paranoid about how much weight the kid had lost over the summer. It wasn’t much of a mystery to Johnny. Kids were just fat sometimes, and Anthony was growing out of it. And he was running a couple times a week with Robby. _And_ he had good genes. 

But Daniel was a paranoid helicopter parent, there was no changing that. 

Anyway. Johnny can just fit the group into the inner dojo room. He usually warms them up in here, maybe conducts a short lesson, then outside to punch and kick at each other (or the little trees). 

Aisha had left for robot camp again, or something like that to up her chances of getting into a fancy college. Robby was working at the dealership. So he had Miguel and Sam to help out. Right now he was watching Diaz send heart-eyes across the room as his girlfriend took the class through LaRusso’s standard kata. Johnny never joined in during class, it was embarrassing enough doing it in front of Daniel. 

Sam was a natural teacher though, sweet and patient, like her dad. She was a little too bubbly and talkative sometimes, and she and Diaz together could make for a pretty annoying duo, giggling and flirting and generally making a spectacle of themselves. But she was good with the kids. They liked her, especially the two girls in the class. 

The kata finishes up, and Johnny has to yell at them to be quiet as he takes his place at the front of the room. Sam bumps shoulders with Miguel at the back of the class. 

Julia, a nine year-old and tiny for her age, raises her hand. 

“Yes, Miss. Nelson.” 

“Where is Sensei LaRusso?” 

“Sensei LaRusso will not be joining us in class today. Anything else?” That was something Johnny had done behind Daniel’s back, starting the whole “Sensei LaRusso” thing. Daniel had tried his best to make the kids call him “Mr. LaRusso” but Johnny had hammered this point of respect into his kids from day one, and nothing else would stick. 

(Plus, it had made its way easily enough into the bedroom talk. Which had made it easy, selling LaRusso on the merits of the mantle. Johnny still has daydreams about that particular negotiation...)

“...I don’t understand.” 

“What?” Johnny shakes himself from his daydream.

Julia frowns, crestfallen. “I said Sensei LaRusso always teaches on Fridays.” 

“Not today,” Johnny chastises. “Now everybody outside. I’ve got your stations set up, we’re doing circuits. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and burpees. You wimps have had an easy week, it’s time to turn those noodle arms into guns--” 

The class groans, and Miguel laughs, shoo-ing them outside with Sam at his elbow. The rest of class consists of Johnny going from station to station, correcting their terrible form. The water wheel thing makes a hilarious place to watch the kids do burpees, and by the end of class, they’re soaked and giggling in exhausted hysteria. 

Johnny orders Miguel to take the class around the block for a cool down run, and clears his throat as the class starts to file out. “Uh, Miss LaRusso, may I speak with you for a moment?” The words come out awkward, and Samantha rolls her eyes good-naturedly. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” she winces, following him across the room. 

“I address all my students respectfully,” Johnny double checks to make sure all the students left. 

“Yeah, but you're not dating their dad.” She crosses her arms, hip cocking to one side.

Johnny tips his head up and suppresses the urge to die a little inside. His relationship with Samantha LaRusso was still...just a little...weird. Everything he said to her tended to come out awkward and stilted.

“Right,” he rubs at his eyes. “Um. On that note. Has your dad been to Mexico?” 

_“What?”_ She does that teen girl thing where all her questions sound like disgust. 

“I just need to know if your dad has even been to Mexico. Probably Baja.” 

Her mouth drops. “Oh my God, _are you taking Dad to Cabo?!”_

 _“NO--”_ Johnny shakes his head, head swiveling to check the room. “I mean, maybe, I dunno.” He can hear the chatter of students kicking dust on their way up the driveway. “Has he ever been before?” 

“Uhmmm...” Samantha frowns. “I don’t...think so? Me and mom went one time with grandma, and that was kind of a disaster because she got sunburned _really bad,_ and so we had to leave her in the hotel the rest of the trip while we went to the beach, which was sort of better but also really awkward--” 

“Ok so no.” 

“Uhm, right. I’m pretty sure. No. But he and mom went to Hawaii once! But that’s like, totally different, because the beaches are super not the same at all--” 

“What beaches?” Diaz walks up, and the rest of the class starts to file in. 

“Johnny’s taking my Dad to Mexico!” 

“What! Sensei, you dog--” Miguel teases, punching Johnny playfully in the shoulder. 

“No, uh, no-- it’s not a thing yet.” Johnny tries to send the nonverbal signal to shut up. Miguel either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 

“You gonna take him to the club?” Miguel croons, turning his fists around in a little mini-Conga motion. 

“Dad _loves_ dancing--” Samantha emphasizes, smiling wide. “Ohmygod, he’s gonna freak out. What do you have planned?” 

“Nothing. No dancing. There’s no dancing.” Johnny shakes his head, heading back to the kitchen for a beer. The other students are filing out to the driveway, the sound of rumbling engines floats through the open doors. 

“You know, he likes fishing too! He and Mr. Miyagi would go on fishing trips all the time, maybe you guys could charter a boat and go catch some like, big tuna or trophy fish?” 

Johnny could not give less fucks about fish. He opens his beer. “Uh huh. Ok well thanks for the advice. You guys should scram.” 

They follow Johnny into the kitchen, still talking. 

“You know, back to the dancing thing,” Miguel opens the fridge and grabs a couple of cokes. “I bet there are a lot of like, LGBTQ+ bars down there, you could probably research before you go and pick a few out.” 

Samantha nods. “Mmmhmm. And you could take a lesson. Or, Dad could just show you. He’s a pretty good teacher.” She winks, and Johnny thinks if he doesn’t extricate himself from this conversation very quickly, he might just have to jump off the roof and shatter his ankles and never leave his bedroom ever again. 

Miguel cracks open his coke. “I could help you book the hotels and stuff. Most of them should speak English but I can call them if you want, make sure they sound legit.” 

“Wait, are you guys going to Tijuana or Cabo?” Samantha grips her can skeptically, frowning. “Cause Tijuana is supposed to be sketchy. I don’t think there are too many resorts there. Plus the beaches in Cabo are waaaay better.” 

“No, _what?_ Sam, they’re not going to stay in a resort, that's where scared white people go to hide from actual Mexico. If you want to actually go to Mexico, you can’t stay in a resort.” 

“Yeah, but they’re _safe--”_

Miguel scoffs, shaking his head. Johnny traces the escape route in his mind again. 

“Why would you want to pay a bunch of money to stay in some overpriced hotel where you don’t see any real people?” 

“Yeah, but they’re at risk for hate crimes now.” Sam crosses her arms, setting her unopened coke down on the counter. “You have to think about these things, Miguel.” 

“Like anyone’s gonna mess with Sensei and your dad.” Miguel rolls his eyes. 

“Karate doesn’t work very well against guns.” 

“Noone’s going to shoot them, they’re tourists, that’s where all the money comes from--” Miguel gestures, can-in-hand. Johnny takes a couple of steps towards the back hall and bedroom.

“Yeah, and like, cocaine and heroin! And what if they get kidnapped or something, they might know my Dad’s face from TV!” 

“Sam, no offense, but I don’t think anybody in Mexico cares about your Dad’s car dealership.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Hey Sensei, where are you going?” 

Johnny leaves the two of them arguing in the dojo, and retreats down the back hallway to the bedroom. He throws the door shut, pulling off his gi and rooting around in the closet for a tshirt. He sits on the bed and takes a drink, thinking. His phone beeps and he looks down:

> _From: Jimmy, 5:04pm - Hey johnny here is marcos number-- i already gave him a call, he is cool and knows you guys are trying to take a trip down there._
> 
> _From: Jimmy, 5:04pm - but yes he still has the place in SJ del Cabo the pictures look incredible, if you guys have a good time i might have to take Jenny ;)_
> 
> _From: Jimmy, 5:05pm - he said you can park in san diego, walk over the border, and rent a car in TJ. If u decide to drive down to cabo u can leave the car there and fly back! I was thinking I can drop u guys off in SD so u wont have to worry about leaving ur car!_
> 
> _From: Jimmy, 5:05pm - i think this is a great idea johnny i am so proud of u!!_

Johnny stares at the number, thumb hovering over the screen. He frowns. He thinks briefly of the endless Netflix cue, HBO, Amazon Prime. The hours of sitting on a couch watching lives play out on the flat, vibrant screen.

He calls.

  
  
  
  


***


End file.
